Lie to me
by Bond.Jane
Summary: "Please (...) lie to me. Please. Tell me that what you had to do was important, that it was worth it, that you could not spare a second. Please be kind to me and tell me that it was vital. (...)That you were saving the world. Don't tell me that you were careless, that I did not matter enough. Please lie to me." Tag for "In the nme of the brother". Spoilers for "Tiny". One shot.


**Author's note:** I don't doubt the Charmings- and Emma more particularly- are good people. I'd like to meet them and shoot the breeze a little. Should be good fun. But that does not mean that they are not assholes, truly and properly.

So how many people need to babysit a stranger in hospital when the man is dying and cannot go anywhere? Surely, one of them could be dispensed to go Regina's house and say "Hey, look, turns out Archie was alive." I'm thinking that the one that shares a son with Regina and just got her ass saved by said person should get off her arse and go there. Or call. Or text. Or email. Instead, she ponders on magic and life and death and acts all heroic with a cell phone before making an arse of herself and of her lie detector. Maybe the lie detector thingy needs new parts.

Anyway.

Thank you to MarieYotz for betaing services.

And if you are one of the wonderful people wondering if I fell off the face of the earth and am about to abandon Atonement, rest assured: Chapter 17 is ready and is in Marie's capable hands for betaing services so it should not be long, now.

Much love

Jane

**... … … … … … … … … … … **

**Lie to me.**

She had expected the decision to be easy. It was not. Raining down chaos on Storybrooke was as difficult as it was to trust Cora. She didn't really, but what else was there, with her mother sibilating sweet promises in her needy ears, promising Henry back, promising peace, promising happiness.

Carefully, she arranged a malevolent expression on her face, the habit not lost in 29 years away from home. With Emma and Gold away looking for whatever Gold wanted, it was very much like stealing candy from a baby, which, face it, did not look out of place in her résumé. The idea was amusing in a sociopathic sort of way. And yet, planting that magic bean in the middle of Main Street, despite all the fanfare of evil smirks and cruel remarks, had an undertone of despair and loneliness that even Cora standing beside her, beaming, carefully holding on to her arm could not dispel.

She coaxed the bean to sprout, to lay roots and grow. She rained magic on it as if it were water sprung from betrayal. Beside her, Cora beamed her inflexible proud smile, toxic to the returning of her stray daughter to the fold.

The beanstalk grew tall and strong like her resentment, magic pointing it to the sky, calling to the dweller of the clouds, calling out to his betrayed heart, to his bruised soul, whispering to him promises of retribution that could well have been sung in Regina's voice because she knew well how it felt, the carelessness of the broken promise, the jagged edges of the broken heart.

And when its green beams and leaves and vines penetrated the clouds, she enticed Tiny the giant to come and collect his dues, to come and soothe his heart in the blissful waters of revenge and retribution.

She sang to him of the elation of vengeance and of the euphoria of finally,_ finally_, getting some of your own back. Tiny put his foot forward and climbed down the beanstalk, his thirst for companionship only a distant stir lost in the agitation of grief and hurt.

When his footfalls shook the earth, when his shadow engulfed all of Storybrooke, Regina tried to feel love for her mother. She had been _neglecting her potential_, she had allowed herself to be a victim again, to let Henry and Emma and the assorted idiots that were the human landscape of Storybrooke demean her with their judgment, with their inability to see her, to _really_ see her, the person that could be good if only she had something to be good for. As Tiny approached her, she did a quick version of powdering her nose- she rearranged the mean, calculating smile and pointed Tiny in Jack's direction - but she knew she needn't bother because you always know where those that cause you to suffer are. She refreshed old wounds, picked at scabs and dusted them with the salt of memory. Just like her mother did. She always did learn fast. She did not look into his lost boy face. She had enough of lost boys in her heart to last her a thousand lifetimes over and they were all Henry Henry Henry. "Go," Regina whispered sweetly to him. "Go". And again she was surprised that it was not easy, that the words came from her ripping her throat raw in their passage.

For a moment, she looked at Tiny and even from a distance his eyes pleaded with her not to make him the monster she needed. Not to make him the monster she was again. For a moment she thought that it would be so simple to just take his giant hand and run, just run until they ran out of earth to run on and perhaps, tumbled into an abyss where nothing mattered. Where Cora's voice was not the only one offering solace and comfort.

But it lasted only a moment. Cora was there and Cora whispered to Tiny a lesson Regina knew well: that love is weakness and that there is only power. Power could bring them back what they had lost. Tiny rubbed his fist over his heart. "It hurts. Will it stop hurting?"

Cora's smile was easy as rain. "Yes, it will. In a little while you won't even remember that pain." And her hand was a speck on his but it rubbed at his thick skin and there was care in the touch even if Regina knew it for what it was- a lie. One she was eager to believe.

Tiny knew too. Some hearts know the lies but there is no truth to hold to, no truth to point the way, to give you true north. So you take the lie and drink it as if it were truth. Tiny swallowed thick and painful but he stood from his timid spot against the beanstalk and moved towards the crowd that had spilled onto the streets from their nests of goodness.

"Fee!" Regina smiled cruelly, her voice soft but projecting over Storybrooke. "Fi!" No, she would never forget how to be evil. The crowd before her shivered, a long lost memory of giants roaming the earth finally, _finally_, making them understand the beanstalk ripping through the pristine tarmac of Main Street. "Fo!" Regina's smile widened as they cowered into their Storybrooke personas, refusing to believe that their nightmares were coming back for them. There you have it, she thought bitterly, you need to remember that you had nightmares before you could value the peaceful slumber. It was bitter though, and she had expected for some absurd reason (maybe her mother's promises) that it would feel sweeter. "Foom!" The sound was soft, so very soft, but there were Tiny's heavy footfalls to mark the beat of her words and the silence in between each of them. The crowd ran, broken out of their stupor by the soft voice and the thunderous footfalls.

"You have always known how to make an impression, my dear."

The approval was all she had ever wanted from her mother. From anyone, really, but Henry was petrified in the middle of the street, staring at her, in the footpath of a giant with probably bad eyesight. The green of his eyes was an accusation in Technicolor and yet he did not move; he did not look away. He did not run. And Tiny did not stop. When she would have moved to save him, to lay herself over him, her mother whispered again, because she knew every dark corner, every wounded patch of her heart: "He will come to you, dear." And the promise was sweet, sweeter than the thought she had finally lost her ever loving mind.

"Pull yourself together, Regina." Cora spit, low, low, low because approval never lasted and her face always revealed too much. It never lasted, but there was consistency in that, at least. Cora and her punishing teachings were always there. Her mother was always there. Even Rumplestilskin and his half whispered deals were always there. Only Henry was not. "He will come to you." And she needed something to believe in. She needed something so badly she would take this, she would take this lie. Even if her heart kept on breaking and the crowd kept on screaming and flailing, her son, her precious, precious son kept on standing there staring accusations at her.

In her incongruent regalia, Cora stood there, as always, by her side, the only one that ever would. The only one that ever cared for her. Regina drank the promise, the minute approval and still, though she should have known better, she hoped that it would feel like she had finally gotten it right. Tiny ripped through Storybrooke as if under each building he leveled he could find a little shard of his lost peace. Regina hoped he would find some, her cruel smile waning. There was no need for it any longer. Henry was the only one still looking at her and he had never needed that smile to know who she really was. _Who she would always be_. She wanted to reach out for him and in a moment of distraction from Cora, elated by the erasing of Storybrooke, she did. She reached out her hand for her son because even evil queens that do not know how to love _do_.

There was nothing but distance between them and then there was Emma Swan, a streak of blond hair and black coat tearing through the air and the dust and the debris and reaching for her son, grabbing him and shielding him from the shards of Storybrooke, her body over his. The savior's heartbeat was all Regina could hear.

Her world became a two beat dance - Tiny's destroying footfalls and Emma's heart beat. With a cruel smile and a sweep of the hands she raised the winds and blasted at Emma, lambasting her with the crumbs of the buildings, the crushed mortar and the splintered wood of all that been her almost happy ending, her town, her creation. She crushed carefully a glimmer of light that her own heart insisted on, drowned it in resentment and jealousy and anger. She thought of adding a vicious cackle to go with the evil smirk but really, that was just kitsch. Cora looked happily at her, as if she had finally come to her senses; and for the very first time, the very first in her too long life, Regina's heart did not beat wildly in happiness at having gotten it right.

Tiny stood in the middle of the debris, and looked at her. Jack's dead body hung limp in his hand but there was no peace. No peace at all. Giants are stupid. It was his fault if he had his heart's fondest desire in his hand and still he could not be happy. She fastened her smile to her face. _Too bad for you, Tiny. Too bad for both of us._ She pressed harder on the insidious little light that Emma always brought about without even trying - and again, she raised her hands, the wind howled and whipped Emma and what was left of Storybrooke, a whirlwind of anger and resentment and jealousy and betrayal.

Emma covered Henry with her jacket, bundled him in the thickness of it and pushed him under the ruins of the town hall, the collapsed walls providing safe haven from the hurricane force she was unleashing on Emma and her ilk. Henry would be okay. Her perfect little boy would be okay. The wind picked up intensity and the trees were pulled by their roots and there were screams and, all in all, with Tiny standing there, towering over everything, looking perfectly lost, it was picture perfect apocalypse. She was finally living up to her potential. Approval rolled in waves from her mother, something cold and self-serving but that was hers. All that she would ever have.

Emma took a moment to look at her, something like understanding shining out of her eyes, one hand holding Henry under the cover of the ruined building, the other finding purchase against Regina's fury. _Too late_ Regina thought. _Too little, too late_ and she turned to her mother, because she needed to be sure that she was still there, that she still approved, that someone, _at least someone,_ was proud of her and was always there. A tear rolled down her cheeks and Regina wiped at it furiously, because that was self pity and she did not do self pity. She hated self pity. Her mother hated self pity. She hated herself for it. So she added rain and thunder and hail and the sun darkened under her clouds.

She looked at her mother. If only she could be reminded of how good approval had always felt, after every punishment taken in silence, after every punishing tea time, after every tongue lashing, after every beating without a tear, then she would be able to do this. She would be able to obliterate all the simpering fools, all the buildings, all the roads, all the possibilities she had created.

But her vision was clouded and her heart must have told her otherwise, _damned that pervasive little light_, because Cora's smile was not one of approval. It was something more terrifying. The scared child in her wanted to ask her mother what she had done wrong. What was left of Regina held her back.

There was only shock.

And wind howling.

And hail and rain and deafening thunder.

And sand blasting away at all that remained standing and splinters of wood and bits of buildings swirling in the air around her.

And Emma.

Emma Swan's arms pulling Regina into her.

Emma Swan's embrace and Emma Swan's body pivoting to shield her from the debris swarming in the air like mad bees.

Emma.

Emma.

Emma.

Emma saving her, the unredeemable evil.

Oh Emma. That damned light that insisted on flickering in her chest. Were that it would die quickly.

"Shhhh." Emma whispered in her ear. "It's going to be okay."

It was not. It was never going to be okay. Cora was the only person that approved of her. And that meant that there was something wrong with her. There would forever be something wrong with her. Her hand reached out and the wind picked up again and the hail and the thunder. Emma would crush her now, any minute now, she would crush her. She was the savior, she would destroy Regina to save everybody else.

Except Emma simply tucked her into her body a little more and closed herself around Regina and whispered _shhhh, it's going to be okay, I promise. _ Regina's body rebelled against the soothing mumbles, half words really, in Emma's uneducated tones and by sheer thought alone, the speed of the wind and the intensity of the rain and hail doubled.

"Let me go." She screamed at Emma, over the howling and the thunder of her own making. "Let me go."

"No. Not today. Listen." And over the tempest she did, she listened to the footfalls of the giant and to the heartbeat of the savior. "It's going to be okay."

Emma smelled of wind and sand and destruction. She smelled of wild things and promises and tears. But Emma's promises were fickle. She had promised before. She had promised she would save her and it had not happened, not this time around when Regina needed her the most.

Regina pulled back as much as she could in Emma's arms too tight around her. The blond hair was a tangled mess of twigs and leaves and water and her face was scratched and gashed at points. "It's going to be okay."

Regina was so grateful for the lie. "Where were you when it could have been okay?" Regina sobbed into the shoulder that held her up.

"I'm sorry. I should have believed you." But Regina refused it, the apology. _No, that wasn't it._ You had to earn trust and she was still a million miles away from that.

"You said you'd save me again next time."

"Am I too late?" The wind wailed around them, debris flew into them, against then, and nothing ever touched her because Emma was a shell around her, a wall of impenetrable protection. _Yes._ Cora stood in the middle of Main Street. _Yes._

"He's alive." It was like being at the eye of a hurricane, except the wind and the rain and the hail were still maniac around them, blurring the world into a grey mass. "You knew he was alive."

"I did. I'm sorry."

"Henry did too."

"Yes."

"I grieved for him. And you did not come to me. You did not tell me."

"No. I'm sorry. I should have come to you. I have no excuse. I'm so very sorry, Regina. I should have come to you. I should have apologized then. Maybe if I did she wouldn't have gotten to you. "

"No. Don't."  
"I should not have left you alone. She got to you because I left you alone."

"I'm not a battle field." Regina lamented because again she was chattel.  
"No, you're not. You're Henry's mom. Regina. You're Regina now. I should not have left you alone. I should not have left without talking to you. You care about Archie. I should have told you. It was so stupid, so careless of me."

"Please don't. Don't tell me that. Lie to me. _Please_. Tell me that what you had to do was important, that it was worth it, that you could not spare a second. Please be kind to me and tell me that it was vital. That you trusted me. That you were saving the world. Don't tell me that you were careless, that I did not matter enough. _Please lie to me_."

"Regina, look at me." Regina wished she'd had it in her to look away, to shake off the arms holding her so tight that it was hard to breathe. "I'm a shit savior, you might as well know that if we are going to be doing this on any sort of regular basis. I suck at it. I should have gone to you; I should not have been so terrified of apologizing, of owning up to my shit behavior. And I should have found you before I left. I find people, that's what I do. But was scared of finding you because I didn't want to apologize, not really. I suck at saving." Emma's freezing cold hand touched Regina's overheated cheek then, something grounding and calming. Like being at the eye of the hurricane. "But if you let me, if you help me, it's going to be okay. I promise. You're going to be okay."

And then, just like that, the eye of the hurricane dissolved and all was vivid, deadly storm around them. Cora stood, a cruel smile directed at her daughter, sweeping the devastation around them and the giant still clutching a dead body in his meaty hand. "Congratulations, my dear, I could not have done it better myself." And she held her hand out for Regina, more order than invitation or request in the gesture.

Regina's body wanted nothing more than to obey the lessons learned throughout her life. Her muscles quivered and shook in the effort of resisting. "You silly, silly girl. It seems you will forever need your mother in your life."

Her body was being ripped apart, bone by bone. Regina screamed in pain as her mother siphoned her from where she stood, still in Emma's tight hold. Emma panicked, torn between letting go and losing Regina and holding tighter and causing her even more pain. "Don't let me go." Regina begged her, her voice strangled. "Please don't let go."

Emma's only reply was to hold tighter, to spread her body like a cocoon around Regina's, to slide to the floor until they were sitting, Regina straddling Emma's legs, holding on as tight as Emma. "Please don't let go."

"I won't." For a moment the wind subsided, the hail stopped, the rain became balmy, Regina's magic giving in to that feeble little flicker of stupid hope. "I won't."

Cora growled and the storm picked up again, more violent, bitterer than before. "She will never let me go." Regina's salty tears burned on Emma's scratched cheeks.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay. Believe me. You're going to be okay." Carefully, she pulled Regina's wildly flapping hair back behind her ear and smoothed it down as if it could have made any difference in the middle of the storm they were at the centre of and gently smoothed it down. "Just hold on." The movement was mesmerizing, as were the absolutely green eyes staring at her. "We can do this together."

"Even if that's not true, thank you. Thank you for being kind." She lowered her head to Emma's shoulder and thought that if this was the end- of her life or of her hopes- then at least, for once, there was someone warm standing with her. She closed her eyes and waited for the moment her mother would win, her whole childhood stretching ahead of her again. She held on closer.

She did not notice, not then, but the wind slowed and the rain stopped, as did the hail. She did not notice, but the sand and the splinters of wood and the debris of Storybrooke settled around her and Emma. The only thing she was aware of was her heart beat settling and beating to pace with Emma's, of the immense _peace_ and _wellness_ of that embrace. As if nothing bad could ever touch her again. As if Cora and Rumplestilskin could never, ever, make her do their bidding again.

She kept her eyes closed against Emma's shoulder, just waiting for the moment the peace would be shattered. "Regina?" Emma whispered the name against her ear and the sound reverberated through her, each vowel, each consonant. Each syllable. Slowly she gathered the courage to open her eyes. Around then, there was a bubble of something shimmering, like a force field that held everything at bay. "Magic?"

"Magic." There was awe in Regina's voice. This was magic that cost her nothing; magic that left no bitter taste in her mouth like a bad medicine. She probed at the edges of the bubble and beyond it the maelstrom continued, ripping off trees and raising the water from the bed of the ocean and the sand from the beach. Beyond their bubble all was disaster. One of her own making. Regina choked a sob.

"Do you think you can stop that storm now? Just for little. Let's talk about this, okay?"

"Don't manage me, Miss Swan." Emma had the grace to lower her eyes.

"I'm sorry."  
"You keep saying that." Emma nodded and pulled Regina slightly back, never breaking their contact. "I can't stop it. I don't know how to stop it."

Regina's tone was coated in self loathing. And fear. Their bubble weakened. "It's not you. Regina, it's not you." Emma spoke as understanding flooded her. Carefully, she wiped the tears that were falling down Regina's impossibly beautiful face. "It's her. You're okay. It's her. It's her magic doing this now." Cora stood imposing like a maestro conducting her symphony of annihilation.

Regina's body lost the tension that had seized her and she slumped against Emma's hold.

"Henry is out there." The terror was sudden and overwhelming. "Henry is out there."

"Hush… Look." Regina did. Henry was still wrapped in Emma's coat, tucked under the remains of her beautiful town hall. And their bubble stood between him and Cora.

"We can do this, Regina."

Could they? She could never get anything right. Everything she touched turned to ash and soot and mold. But Emma's hand was on her back, holding her upright when she would have slumped. Her arms tightened their hold and her nose pressed against Emma, inhaling her scent of freedom.

Emma's arms tightened their hold and she pressed her nose against Regina's shoulder, taking in her scent of fear and bravery.

Their bubble solidified, expanded, pushing away from them, its edges losing definition as it let Storybrooke in, as it became a living thing that stopped the storm outside and pressed Cora against the edges of town, a wall, a living wall that Cora could not stop, not even when she was pressed between the edges of their bubble and the edge of town, two solid walls, her fists pounding and pounding against those invisible walls. "Regina. I'm your mother."

The bubble wavered, lost definition and conviction. "I've always wanted the best for you." Cora whispered but the sound carried as if each uprooted tree, each crumbled building, each crack on the tarmac was repeating her words, carrying them to where Regina stood. "No one ever stays with you. Only I do, Regina. No one loves you. Only I do."

Regina shuddered. Cora's words had a hold on her that was stronger than even the blood they shared. "Please lie to me, Emma. Tell me that you will always be here to save me. Please, lie to me now." _Don't let me hear her._

"Regina, I _am_ here. I know I suck as a savior but I'm yours. Your savior. Yours. And you won't have to do this alone. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay, I promise. She is not the only one." Emma relaxed her hold on Regina, taking the cold hand in hers and pressing it against her heart. "Cross my heart."

Cora's voice reached them, distorted, echoing in each woman, stirring fears and shame along with each syllable. "They have always left you on your own. They are just playing you now. You know I love you, Regina."

"She does."

"Yes." Emma agreed. "She does."

"But that love has meant nothing good for me, Mother." The words lost their intensity and became for Emma alone. "Only hurt and pain and loneliness."

"It's okay. You're okay now."

"No, I'm not." And her head fell into Emma's shoulder. "Make her stop. Please, Miss Swan, make her stop."

Emma was momentarily stunned because to make Cora stop, at least the only way she knew how, would mean to let go of Regina and that was the only thing she could not do, not without risking losing that fragile connection between them. Not without risking Regina disappearing from her hold to become Cora's daughter again. Not without shattering their peace.

Tiny took a carful step and picked Cora up, pinched between his fingers, like a child holding up pieces of a Lego toy, unsure how to make it work. He raised her to eye level, inspected her like a bug and confronted her with the body he held in his left hand. "It did not work." Carefully, he sat by the root of the beanstalk. "It still hurts." He murmured more to himself than to her, but the deep, deep voice carried to Regina and Emma. "I did not get anything back."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." No, nothing was back. Henry was not back. Her father, Daniel, her childhood, her heart. Nothing was back. Storybrooke was nothing but a splatter on the ground, crushed, broken. As was she. "I'm sorry, Tiny. I'm so sorry."

Tiny bowed his head, a courtesy from wounded to wounded, she saw it clearly, with a grace she could not have imagined possible in a giant. Or anyone other than her mother, really.

Then, he took to the beanstalk, climbing with a body in his satchel and Cora clutched tightly in his left hand. His ascent was swift and silent, safe for her mother's cursing and screaming. Itwas not, she knew, the last she will hear of her mother. She will never be rid of the woman, of the scars she leaft on everything she touched. She looked at the rapidly disappearing giant and imagined she could still see Cora, her disapproving eyes and her mocking tone. Cora will come back for her, but for now, she's gone. The relief was physical: the blood rushed fast, fast, fast to her head and she swayed and felt like she would lose control of all her bodily functions and make a joke of herself. And her heart hurt. Cora's… well. Cora. But Regina loved her mother. Loved her still. Again, she lost someone she loved.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're okay, Regina." Emma mumbled and rocked her slightly and the movement made her lose control over her stomach and she ended up crawling away from Emma and losing its meager contents on what was left of the lawn of town hall.

Emma crawled to her. She knelt on the debris settling down and rubbed Regina's back, slow and gentle. Regina heaved violently. There was nothing in her stomach, but her body seemed hell bent on purging her life on that patch of grass.

When the heaving subsided, Emma was still rubbing her back, pulling her hair from her face. Still with her. She pulled a crumpled tissue from her jeans pocket and wiped Regina's mouth clean, pat at her sweaty brow.

"I'm not okay. Emma, I'm not okay. Look at me, look at what I've done. I am not okay."

Regina froze. _I know who you are and I know who you will always be._ "I will always be the Evil Queen."  
Emma could feel Regina slipping away as surely as if it had been a physical distance. Only this time, Emma thought, she would not let it. She would not let Regina lick her own wounds. She held her hand out and for the longest time, Regina clenched her fists and stood, proud and still which was the only thing she knew. Out of the very many lessons life had taught her, there had never been one on how to reach for a proffered hand.

Emma stood there, her hand reaching out, standing on a very lonely limb, waiting. Simply waiting.

And then Regina slumped into her arms. "I'm not okay, Emma. I'm not okay." And then she was sobbing. Bawling. Crying so hard her body was shaking. Crying as if the tears she had always been too strong to allow had come for her all at once. "I am not okay, Emma."

Emma said nothing. She simply held on, pulled Regina into her and held her there, sitting as they were, on the floor. When the shaking and the sobbing subsided, Emma finally found her words. "You may not see it now, Regina, but you are okay. I know who you are. I know you. Who you will always be. You are the person that tries the most. You are okay. You're going to be okay."

And as Emma held on to Regina and her promise, magic pulsed between them, meshed together, the savior's white magic and destroyer's dark one. It pulsed out of them, softly. Together like that, the savior and the destroyer became one. A whole.

Their combined magic wafted from their clasped bodies and swirled around them, further and higher with each heartbeat, spreading around them, blanketing what had been Storybrooke in a balmy breeze, settling the dust, calming the water, clearing the hail.

"I'm so sorry, Emma."

"I am too. I should have paid attention. I should have come to you. Because you were trying. Even then you were trying and you needed someone to believe in you and I didn't. I am so sorry, Regina."

Regina looked at Emma then. She didn't quite know how to accept apologies never having had much experience with that. She wanted to say something kind and graceful and true but the words could not find their way out of her. She had no idea how to be good. But Emma seemed to understand and smiled and kissed Regina's cheek. "You'll be okay. I promise." And she kissed her cheek again. And then again, closer and closer to that mouth until the moment she knew neither how to go any further nor how to stop.

Regina angled her face a fraction and the next kiss fell on her lips, a short kiss, and another short kiss and yet another until there was no space between one and the other, until their lips stayed melded together and the kiss just went on, on, on as the dust lifted again in swirls from the ground where it had settled and condensed into solid walls and solid doors and again became buildings. The kiss went on, on, on as trees were lifted from the ground and fell, roots first, into their places, their broken branches mending and the torn leaves bright green again. The kiss went on, on, on as the sand rose in the air and settled once again on the beach, pristine, softer than it had ever been. The kiss went on, on, on as water settled back into the sea bed and the ships returned unbroken to their moorings and the gulls returned to circle overhead. It went on, on, on as the grass and flowers returned to their beds, as the cracks on the tarmac healed like wounds on the skin, as the last of the vines of the beanstalk shrunk into the ground, a seed once more. The kiss went on, on, on as the broken and the wounded inhabitants of Storybrooke saw their injuries and their wounds close and heal leaving no mark other than memory, as if they had never been.

The kiss went on, on, on, until Storybrooke was as it had been only that morning: Regina's last hope.

With a sigh, they pulled apart, tiny little touches of the lips as if they were trying to adjust to not kissing. Emma pulled her sleeve to cover her hand and carefully wiped each of Regina's tears, drying her cheeks, her eyes, her chin, her neck. Even ravaged by tears, Regina was still the most beautiful thing Emma had ever seen and those tears were her doing. "I'm sorry, Regina. I can do better. I can be better." And she sealed her promise with a kiss to Regina's blotchy cheek.

Regina nodded. "I believe you."

Emma's was a beautiful smile of relief. _Oh yeah,_ she thought with a happy skip in her heart, _buckle up, Regina. Our happy ending is here. _Though she had no idea where the certainty came from.

.

.

.

Henry was the first to come and stand in the middle of Main Street, dwarfed by Emma's jacket wrapped around him. Red and Dr Hopper came, each from different directions, and stood, against a tree one, balancing on the curb another. Granny and Dr Whale, Snow and James, school children, fairies, dwarves all walked to Main Street no matter where they had been when mayhem was loose in town. They were all pulled by the scent of magic in the air. Main Street was the bellybutton of Storybrooke at that moment and it was impossible not to feel the attraction of that spot.

Sitting in the middle of the street, the brash Sheriff and the dignified Mayor, in each other's arms, were kissing as if there was nothing else to do with time and life, lazy and pretty.

The throng of Storybrooke wanted to look away. It was such a private moment that a collective conscience reasoned that they should be given some privacy, but they needed to see this, they needed to make sure it was real. Happy endings are so rare.

There would be no more left of that day than memory, the stuff of legend. _Once upon a time there was an Evil Queen who had a broken heart. _ There was certainly no more evidence to what had happened that day than a magic bean clearly visible on the tarmac of Main Street where it had been planted by the Evil Queen. It reminded the inhabitants of Storybrooke that love, though it can heal, and faith, though it gives strength, are not enough. It reminded those who walked or drove by it to tend to love and hope like a fragile plant.

When Regina and Emma finally disentangled from each other, lips and arms and eyes, and looked around them, there was a moment of silence, loaded with memories of fear and hate and love. The Sheriff smiled sheepishly at the woman before her and at the throng around them. Regina lowered her head because some wounds go back so long that the best magic will not repair it in a day. Emma slung her around the slumping shoulders and pulled her into her. Then she pulled their son into them.

"Let's go home." Henry asked, voice muffled against the Regina's side.

It looked like a beginning more than an ending, two worn out people in bloom, but that was why Storybrooke finally looked more promising than the Enchanted Forest: if the Evil Queen had a shot at being happy, then _happy_ was up for grabs and it seemed that there was plenty to go around.


End file.
